Sweat dripped off Arron’s forehead. Hammer raised for another blow, he lost himself in the rhythmic ring of the anvil. It was damn near hypnotic. The burn in his arms and shoulders brought his frustration, his disappointment, his rage, hurt, and anxiety forward. Each and every emotion boiling stronger as he hammered the metal. He could almost see them oozing onto the anvil, black and caustic. He beat those emotions into the shape his will desired.

Minutes passed as he danced the brutal dance with this metal. Each blow a relief, each blow torture.

And then his task was finished and a warped shovel lay on the anvil.

“Not bad for Iron,” Smith said, pulling the tongs out of Arron’s hands and dumping the piece of misshaped metal unceremoniously in a barrel of scrap. “Do another 150 of those and I can give you another recipe, maybe start introducing ya to Bronze.”

After the battle with the Skag Queen, Torbin had set a rendezvous time for Arron to meet with the group, saying he needed to take care of some things before they got to training.

Not wanting to waste the time, Arron decided to take Smith up on his offer and headed to the shop. He had goosebumps of excitement, even going so far as to turn off his Pain Tolerance while working, enjoying the ache in his muscles from the labor.

Arron wiped his face with a cloth, smiling and breathing heavily. “Nah, you know I’m not interested in learning the trade. Just here for the Strength gains.”

Smith spit on the ground. “Yea, yea, you mentioned that. Just here for the gains. Bah, what a waste of potential.”

Arron chuckled, knowing full well that Smith was referring to the iron.

“Potential… gains,” Arron replied, grinning at the terrible joke and drawing an eye roll from Smith. “Actually, that reminds me, I looted this recently.” Arron pulled out the Minor Core he’d gotten off the Beast of Unfettered Evil.

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

Smith took the core and inspected it with a practiced eye. “Minor grade, no attribute assigned,” he mumbled and shrugged. “It’s a core. How much ya want for it?”

“I don’t know what they go for or what they are, actually… except that they’re used for crafting.”

“Ah. Well, I’ll give ya a fair price if ya look to sell, but as far as what they are,” Smith said, pausing briefly to gather his thoughts. “Cores are the heart of crafting in Interius. Both figuratively and literally. To craft any magical item, you need a core, and the strength of the magical item will be decided, in part, by the grade of core. For instance, this one’s Minor,” Smith tossed the core back to Arron. “Once ya got your core, you can to turn it into something usable.

“Alchemists melt them using acids and combine additional elements to create powerful potions. Jewelers stretch them into wire. Each craft is different, and they use this process to assign attributes to the core. If I want it to make something more durable, I’d forge it into an ingot, and layer properties of fortitude, resilience, and flexibility. That recipe right there would create an Ingot of Durability that I’d turn around and place at the heart of the next piece I make.”

“Huh… So, a core can become anything magical, as long as it’s strong enough?” Arron clarified.

“Yes and no. Skill comes into play. I can create an Ingot of Durability reliably. At your current capability, you’d fail three times out of four, and that’s if ya knew the properties to add while you’re forging. Players who focus on crafting spend a significant amount of time searching out new recipes, properties and such.”

Crafting had the potential to become dizzyingly complex. Always more building blocks, more ingredients, more stuff you could build.

Smith smiled. “But ya aren’t interested in any of that. You just want the gains.”

Arron laughed, waving off the blacksmith’s joke.

He liked Smith. The gruff exterior and old salt of his personality reminded Arron of several veterans he’d worked with. Smith’s no-bullshit way of talking about things was a blessing. Arron’s confused mind was already having trouble keeping up with how this world worked.

Noticing the time, Arron moved to leave. “I have to meet the group, Smith. I’ll be back soon for more.”

“Thanks for the warning,” the bastard replied, reinvigorating Arron’s smile as he left the shop.